Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 609 609: MYSTIC BATTLE

Two days earlier...

Every legend possessing a mystic organ found themselves snatched from their respective domains and deposited into the Prime World.

This was the cosmic anchor, the origin point connecting the nine entities, and the eternal resting place of the Throne of All.

The teleportation was violent and absolute, funnily depositing the wielders into a colossal courtroom.

The space was gargantuan, designed with such scale that a Great Dragon could spread its wings without touching the vaulted ceilings.

At the far end of the hall sat the Throne.

It did not glitter with gold or artificial light; instead, it shimmered with the terrifying, translucent weight of Causality itself.

"The Throne of All," Zeph whispered, his eyes wide and hungry.

Zel, a high-ranking member of the Godspeed race and wielder of the Mystic Legs, did not wait for an invitation.

His body blurred, his speed surpassing the thoughts of the others as he sprinted toward the dais.

His hand reached out, fingers inches from the seat of ultimate power.

But before contact was made, an invisible, absurd force erupted from the Throne.

It struck Zel with the weight of a collapsing star, flinging him backward across the vast hall.

The other wielders stepped aside with cold indifference, allowing Zel to crash into the far wall with a bone-shattering impact.

"That's what happens when you run with your legs instead of your brain1," Aegon mocked, his voice echoing through the silent courtroom.

Zel rose from the rubble, his face twisted in a mask of fury, but he forced himself to remain still.

He knew better than to strike out blindly in a room filled with predators.

"You are all here.

It is time to begin the Battle for the Throne of All."

A man appeared before them.

He was utterly unassuming, dressed like a second-class worker one might find in a mundane city.

He radiated no killing intent and possessed no detectable energy.

Yet, the moment he spoke, a heavy dread settled over the room.

Even Aegon's arrogance wavered.

This was a Nameless, the Chief Judge who once served directly under Zereph.

His true name was lost to time, but the legends knew him simply as Owl.

"The task is quite simple," Owl explained, snapping his fingers.

In an instant, the courtroom dissolved.

The pillars and the glittering throne vanished, replaced by a cold, infinite void—a pocket dimension where no life could naturally exist.

"You are now permitted to fight to your heart's content," Owl's voice resonated through the emptiness.

"Plot against one another, join forces, or betray your allies.

All is permitted in this struggle, for here, you are all enemies.

There are no rules once the tournament begins.

Use every ounce of your power, but do not involve a third party.

Any outsider introduced into this struggle will be erased instantly."

He paused, his eyes like glass as he surveyed the gathered legends.

"This void is reinforced to withstand the most cataclysmic of your attacks.

You need not hold back.

Lastly, the void is now sealed.

None of you shall leave until only one heart remains beating."

Owl's presence faded into the shadows of the dimension, leaving the wielders alone.

Within the silence of the void, Aegon was quick to notice that every single gaze was fixed solely on him.

He was the man with five organs; he was the greatest threat.

"Are you all planning to gang up on me?" Aegon asked, the corners of his mouth curling into a confident, dangerous smile.

He stood at the center of the void, seemingly unbothered by the predatory circle forming around him.

"You are the only one among us with more than one mystic organ," Seth muttered, matching Aegon's expression with a cold, knowing smile of his own.

"You hold the greatest advantage.

It would be foolish of us to do anything else."

"Alright then.

Let's get this over with," Aegon replied, his tone almost bored.

He made the first move with blinding efficiency.

Extending his hand, he fired a shimmering sphere of distorted time toward Zaigoth.

The attack was launched with the authority of his Mystic Arms, making the trajectory absolute and the projectile nearly impossible to track.

Zaigoth, caught off guard by the sheer suddenness of the assault, froze, unable to react in time.

But before the time sphere could erase Zaigoth from existence, a blur of motion streaked across the void.

Zel, the only one possessing the Mystic Legs, the natural counter to the speed of the Mystic Arms, moved with a velocity that shattered the sound barrier, snatching Zaigoth out of the path of the attack.

Zel was fast, but even his godspeed couldn't escape the perception of Aegon's Mystic Eyes.

Deciding to punish Zel's arrogance for thinking he could thwart the King's path, Aegon calculated the warrior's trajectory and prepared to fire a second sphere into his predicted path.

However, Davon was already closing in.

The brute lunged from the shadows, swinging his massive battle-axe in a downward arc, aiming to sever Aegon's arm at the shoulder.

Aegon didn't even need to turn; his Mystic Eyes, Nose, and Ears worked in a terrifying sensory harmony, warning him of the exact moment the blade would fall.

Abandoning his attack on Zel, Aegon dipped his head with liquid grace, the axe whistling inches above his hair.

He reached out, his hand snapping toward Davon's throat as the warrior entered his arm's reach.

Before he could secure the kill, Seth intervened.

He flicked his wrist, firing a high-velocity blood bullet that hissed through the air toward Aegon's temple.

Aegon was forced to recoil, letting Davon escape his grasp.

"Tch," Aegon clicked his tongue, his annoyance finally beginning to show.

Too many gnats were buzzing around his head, their coordinated teamwork starting to grate on his patience.

Zel, having successfully repositioned Zaigoth, didn't slow down.

He pivoted and sprinted toward Scott, grabbing the brawler by the collar.

In another explosive burst of pace, Zel charged toward Aegon, using his erratic, high-speed movements to overwhelm the processing power of Aegon's Mystic Eyes.

He breached Aegon's immediate defense perimeter and, with a powerful heave, hurled Scott directly at the center of the fray.

Well, I always run with my legs though 😅